


I Just Haven't Met You Yet

by mmaree



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Baker Harry, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hate to Love, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Opposites Attract, Slow Build, Some Humor, Unresolved Romantic Tension, brief mentions of hedgehogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:16:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4359296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmaree/pseuds/mmaree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has been working hard all term to get a good grade in his online course.  Then a group project is assigned, and he gets partnered with the laziest, most annoying prat in the entire class. </p><p>Or the one where Harry and Louis discover that working together has its perks and that first impressions aren’t always what they seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Just Haven't Met You Yet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snowingwhite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowingwhite/gifts).



It’s not that Harry hated group projects exactly (because, let’s face it, Harry was too nice to hate anything), it’s just that he really, really, _really_ disliked them. But because he was a generally an optimist, he attempted to see the positive side of the thing.

_Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad this time. Maybe he’d learn something from his partner. Maybe things would be different this go around._

That was the mantra he kept repeating to himself all weekend after he’d found out about the partner project that would count as nearly a third of the course grade for one of his hardest classes. On Monday morning, however, the green-eyed idealist was singing a very different tune. It was then that he settled on an undeniable fact: namely, that just like every other group project he’d had the incredible misfortune to be a part of (and every relationship he’d ever been in, to be quite frank), it was clear that this was doomed from the very start.

Now, you may be fooled into thinking that Harry’s verdict was a bit rash, that he was jumping to conclusions too quickly. You could well argue that they hadn’t even begun the bloody assignment, so Harry’s doomsday predictions were as out of place as a screen door in a submarine.  

But you would be sadly mistaken because when Harry checked his e-mail from his business ethics professor, he learned that he was assigned to work with Louis Tomlinson.

Yes, _the_ Louis Tomlinson.

Every class had one, of course--a Louis Tomlinson. He was the cheeky lad who acted the class clown and did what amounted to diddly-squat on all the required coursework. Yet, somehow he got away with it all because the professor fancied his supposedly clever humour. The professor even applauded his willingness to criticise every well-thought-out post from fellow classmates (and, in particular, nearly every well-thought-out post Harry had authored). Needless to say, there was nothing more aggravating than spending all night working on an intelligent response to a prompt on the online forum, only to check back the next day to find someone (who clearly hadn’t even done the assigned reading), had pulled your entire argument to bits with one flippant-as-fuck remark. And to add insult to injury, the majority of the class had “liked” the idiot’s comment.

Not that Harry was bitter about the incident, mind you. He had far more important things to focus on…like his family and his future.

Harry was studying online because it meant he could work fulltime at the bakery and support his family. You see, his mum had been ill for a while now, diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder which prevented her from working as much as she wanted to. (Harry’s deadbeat dad had deserted the family when Harry and his sister, Gemma, were kids.) A few years ago, Harry had taken the job at the bakery to supplement the family’s earnings. For the past year, however, Harry’s “supplemental” job had become the family’s primary source of income.

Harry didn’t plan on slaving behind the hot bread oven forever, though. He had plans. He was a conscientious student. He was going places, and the hospitality management degree he was working towards at university would help him get there.

As long as Louis Tomlinson didn’t cock up all his plans, that is.

 

…………

               

Louis Tomlinson was not happy when he read who his assigned partner was around noon on Monday. Indeed, he was trying to remember why he had even decided to study online in the first place as he skimmed over the endless expectations outlined in the project details.

Thinking back to last summer, it was really all his best mate’s fault. Zayn (who was also his flatmate) had told him that online courses were easier. Zayn had informed him, in his matter-of-fact way, that online classes were a “piece of piss.” And perhaps they were for people like Zayn Malik. People who could recite the periodic table from memory. People who had read an actual book (not including comic books, mind you) from cover to cover. People who were driven and gave two fucks about an obvious oxymoron like business fucking ethics.

Louis, it must be said, was none of those things. It was a simple fact of life and he accepted it just as he accepted the fact that he had been tasked to work with Harry Styles on a group project for the bloody useless course, one of the many useless business courses he was taking towards his useless business degree. Of course, Louis would rather have died than go into business, but it was what his stepdad had wanted. In Louis’ mind, it was easier to go with the flow than waste time bickering with someone about how rubbish you were at all things business-related--especially when “the flow” was footing the bill for your West London flat. Admittedly, he hardly needed a flat in the capitol city at all. The vast majority of his courses were online, and he was only required to attend the odd lecture or two each term. Naturally, this was not information he felt obligated to share with the old man.

It had all been buzzing along quite nicely until this very moment, until he discovered he was going to be partnered with this Harry character. Harry Styles was probably the biggest toffee-nosed anorak he’d ever met (or not actually met since this was a distance course). Just for kicks, Louis had scoped out his twitter and Instagram accounts which he located after about five seconds of searching. As he suspected, the lad’s twitter was littered with dumbass motivational quotes and idiotic, mundane observations.

And don’t even get him fucking started on Harry’s Instagram.

To Louis’ dismay, he hadn’t found a single picture of him because, apparently, Harry preferred posting hipster images of trees, chocolate biscuits, and fire hydrants. Above all, it was blatant that this Styles kid was going to expect Louis to be as eager about this bloody project as he undoubtedly was.

But if Styles thought that, was going to have a rude awakening.

In all fairness, Louis was keen to study _some_ things--things like football, hedgehogs, and indie rock bands. He’d strive to gain skills or gather knowledge on a topic he fancied. For example, he was a proper good footballer, and he could pen an angst-filled tune that was hella better than half of the shit XFM played. But this wasn’t to say that he was completely self-centred, mind you. He was up for a good cause or charity event as much as the next chap. He had even served as student president of the Doncaster division of BRUHS, the British Rescue and Understanding of Hedgehogs Society.

And like his beloved hedgehogs (which he had owned as pets all his life), Louis was a nocturnal animal. This was definitely an advantage to studying online. Therefore, after having spent the day lounging about his London flat and purposely ignoring the barrage of e-mails coming in from--you guessed it--Harry fucking Styles, he decided to go out to a rave with a few mates. He felt a twinge of guilt for not bothering to answer Harry’s messages, but then again, it was probably for the best. It was essential the kid understand as soon as possible that Louis Tomlinson wasn’t about to take orders from anyone (and especially not knobs who posted black and white images of bangers and mash). He would reply to the e-mails when he was bloody well ready to do so.

When he got in from his night out, it was nearly five the next morning. Before turning in, Louis checked his twitter only to find a tweet by Styles at the top of his queue. He scratched his head, staring blankly at his iPhone screen for a full minute. Even though he was proper pissed right now, Louis knew something was amiss, knew that he shouldn’t be seeing tweets from Harry Styles on his account. After some wracking of the brains, Louis was able to deduce that he must have inadvertently hit the “follow” button when he trolled Harry’s account earlier. Still, he couldn’t believe what he was reading. He couldn’t believe it one bloody bit.

 

_Harry Styles. @Harry_Styles_

_Why do I always get paired up with losers for school projects? Why does the universe hate me? :(_

 

If there was one thing Louis simply could not tolerate in life, it was shade on twitter. Even if the tweet was somewhat indirect, Louis (and any of their classmates) could easily deduce that Harry was dragging him. This, clearly, could not go unanswered.

 

_Louis Tomlinson @Louis_Tomlinson_

_@Harry_Styles maybe because you call people losers on social media mate #SayItToMyFace_

After sending off his tweet, he waited expectantly for a response but none followed. About five minutes later, Harry’s original tweet miraculously disappeared and the Doncaster boy smiled satisfactorily to himself. It was almost _too_ easy.

 

…………

 

Harry paced nervously around his bedroom. He was going to be late to work at the bakery if he didn’t get a move on. Unfortunately, all he could think about was the absolute clanger he dropped when he decided to tweet that rot about the universe hating him.

It was so unlike him, but there was no time to ponder that now. He had done the first step in damage control--deleting the incriminating tweet. It didn’t really matter at this point, though, since Louis had already seen the damn tweet. Now, he had to decide whether he should apologise or just brush the whole incident off.

Harry being Harry, he decided to apologise for his insensitive gaffe. It was the proper thing to do. Besides, it would be eating away at him all day at work if he didn’t. There was also the off chance that Louis had saved a screenshot of the tweet which could be potentially problematic. He knew that stupid shite like that could get you kicked out of uni, what with the zero tolerance policy for bullying (and especially online bullying). With all these thoughts running through his head like a hamster on an exercise wheel, he direct messaged his project partner an apology, promising to make up for the thoughtless comment. He didn’t need to wait long for Louis’ reply:

 

_No worries mate. you can make it up to me by getting us a good grade on this project if you know what I mean… ;)_

 

And, of course, Harry knew _precisely_ what Louis Tomlinson meant by this. He let out a long sigh, knowing full well that this was ultimately his own fault. On the bright side (if there possibly could be a bright side to this cock up), doing the massive project solo might have its hidden advantages. Now, he wouldn’t have to worry about running ideas by his partner. He wouldn’t have to depend on someone else completing their portion of the PowerPoint or whatever. Sometimes, doing it all yourself really was the easiest way. Perhaps, this whole unfortunate exchange was all for the best.

Well, that’s what he told himself, anyways.

 

............

 

As expected, they had received an excellent mark on the assignment. Even Louis was impressed when he saw the final project. He couldn’t help but feel that this Styles kid had truly outdone himself. It was so well-researched and so polished, that Louis almost felt guilty for doing fuck all towards the finished product.

But just when he was feeling the first twinges of shame, he remembered Harry’s tweet about him. The entire unsavoury situation still left a bad taste in his mouth. When Styles DM’d him again right after their grade was posted online, he expected some type of snarky comment, or at least a bit of indignation from the old bean. Instead, he just got this:

 

_So sorry again about that tweet. I hope there aren’t any ill feelings now. All the love. -H. x_

 

Louis read the message a dozen times. “All the love…?” Was this dude for real?

Suddenly, Louis had this sickly, prickly feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he was fairly confident that it had little to do with the Nando’s he’d had with the lads last night. No, he hadn’t had a feeling like this since he read that text from his mum last month, the one asking why he hadn’t come home for the last three bank holidays. Directly after, he called his mum and spoke with her until she (and Louis, himself) felt better about the whole thing.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t ring Harry up to alleviate his guilty conscience. He didn’t even have the lad’s number, for fuck’s sake.

_Or did he?_

A brilliant idea had popped into his head. He quickly scanned the e-mails he’d saved on his iPhone. Without much effort, his eyes landed upon the initial e-mail Harry had sent when they were first assigned as partners, the e-mail he had somewhat thoughtlessly ignored. He skimmed through Harry’s introductions and what-not until his eyes landed on the one piece of information he’d been hunting for. Just as Louis remembered, the kid had included his cell number.

Cheerily, Louis punched the digits into his mobile, rehearsing the words he was planning to say to his classmate all the while.

But the moment he heard that surprisingly raspy baritone answer on the second ring, Louis’ plans went to pot, and he knew he was fucked.

 

............

 

“So why exactly _did_ you call?” Harry inquired a tad impatiently. That being said and all, Louis couldn’t say he didn’t blame the kid. The Doncaster boy had managed to introduce himself, but that was about as far as he’d gotten five minutes into the conversation--if you could even call it a conversation, that is.

“I wanted to apologise, you know, and….”

“Yeah?”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you sound like a phone sex operator?” Louis burst out. He wasn’t exaggerating, either. It was the sexiest voice he’d ever heard. Shit, he’d tap that sight unseen, no questions asked, thank you very much.

_“Excuse me?”_

“I said--”

“No,” Harry interrupted, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’m pretty sure I, uh, heard what you said the first time, but I…I think this conversation is making me uncomfortable. Listen, I’m sorry about what I tweeted, I really am. I hope my work on the business ethics project made up for it, but you see I’m--”

“…Going out with me this Saturday,” Louis finished, pressing his luck. “Wear something casual.”

“W-what?” Harry sputtered. “I d-don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say.”

“Nah, mate. I don’t think _you_ understand what I _am_ saying.” For someone so supposedly clever, this kid was as thick as molasses. “So where do you live, Harold?”

“It’s Harry…and are you trying to chat me up?”

Evidently the guy was a bit slow, but, then again, nobody was perfect. “Trying?” Louis echoed derisively. “I was hoping I was succeeding at it, but there you go. So what d’ you say, Harold?”

“Again, it’s _Harry_.” The boy paused and Louis couldn’t help but allow himself a private smirk. It was so easy to get this boy flustered. “But, anyway,” Harry added, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“We can agree to disagree, then,” Louis chirped, unbothered by the other boy’s weak-ass objections. “So where do you live, mate?”

“Er…Canada?”

“Was that a question?” Louis challenged.  

“Uh…no?” Harry’s uncertainty was comical, to say the least. Louis nearly scoffed aloud as he waited for the other boy to continue. “What were you, er, planning? I mean, if we were to go out and all….”

“Well,” Louis replied smoothly, “I was thinking we could go out for a few drinks and a few laughs. You know, we could have a right piss-up to celebrate the end of the term and all.”

_And after that we could fuck maybe. Your choice, mate._

“Uh…I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

“Well, if you’d prefer dinner and a film, I’d be up for that as well,” Louis returned easily. He was flexible, if nothing else.

“No,” Harry insisted, digging a stash of confidence out from somewhere. “I’m flattered and all, I think, but I barely know you. Crap, I wouldn’t even know you from Bob on the street.”

“Bob? You in a relationship, mate? Is that it?” Louis pushed. He knew it. He had shit for luck, always had.

“No. I mean, but I don’t really have time for relationships and things, what with uni and my job and all. You know how it is.”

Actually, Louis didn’t know how it was at all, but he determined he didn’t need to chunter on about that. He was getting tired of talking, tired of having his normally well-received advances falling on deaf ears, as they say. Louis really hoped this kid didn’t look a dog’s dinner after all the time and bloody effort he’d put into making this meeting happen.

On the other hand, that fucking voice could make up for all sorts of shortfalls in the looks department.

“Uh…Louis?”

 _“_ Huh? Did you, uh, say something, mate?” he managed, no doubt sounding like a complete idiot.

_Shit, it sounded almost filthy, the way this kid said his name._

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “I was just saying it’s mad, you know?” Once again, Louis wondered who the kid was trying to convince. “You don’t even know what I look like, for crying out loud.”

“Suit yourself, mate,” Louis allowed reluctantly. “But you seem pretty cool--cooler than I would’ve thought based on your online profiles and what-not.”

“Uh, cheers, mate,” Harry replied somewhat saltily. Louis let it pass.

“So what I’m trying to say is…I’d fancy getting a chance to know you better.” Louis drummed his fingers on his desk, waiting anxiously for the other boy’s answer.

“Um…yeah, okay,” Harry agreed finally, and it was all Louis could do to hide his jubilation. “I mean, we could talk or text or whatever. I wouldn’t mind that, I guess.”

It wasn’t the enthusiastic approval he’d been waiting for, but Louis wasn’t all that fussy. After all, he’d gotten his way and that was all that counted. “Brilliant! Why don’t you start by sending me a picture of yourself?”

“What?! I think you misunderstood me when I said we could--”

“Then, I’ll send you one of me,” Louis interjected congenially. “Cheers for now, Harold.”

“It’s _Harry,_ and….” There was an extended pause and Louis began to wonder if the boy with the sensual voice was still on the line.

“ _Yes,_ Harold?”

“Fuck, never mind,” he grunted. “I guess I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

The instant they rung off, Louis sent Harry one of his better selfies. He half-hoped the other boy would return the favour, but he didn’t. The tosser didn’t even have the fucking decency to say anything about the picture Louis had sent him.

And this was tantamount to rejection in Louis’ eyes.

Louis mulled it all over. He decided he was putting all his eggs in one bloody basket when he ought to be going out with the lads. What he wanted was to get proper pissed. What he wanted was to forget about _that_ voice.

So that was exactly what he did.

 

…………

 

By ten-thirty, Louis was already smashed. He was chilling with Zayn and Liam at some club he couldn’t remember the name of right now. A part of him wished Niall was there as well--not because he didn’t like hanging with his present company, but because it was slightly awkward since Zayn and Liam were now a couple. There was no way around it, either: Louis felt like a third wheel. Even so, he couldn’t be arsed to do much else besides sit at the bar, nursing his drink while pretending not to notice the way Zayn’s hand kept moving farther and farther up Liam’s muscular thighs.

It was indecent--nearly as indecent as Harry Styles’ voice.

To make matters worse, he couldn’t stop prattling on about Harry. He told his two closest mates about how he’d punted the ethics assignment off on Harry after he dragged him online. He kept jabbering on about how Harry’s gravelly, husky tone hadn’t matched his online persona, how it made him rethink everything he initially assumed about the kid. Louis even griped about the fact that Harry hadn’t said fuck all about the selfie he’d sent earlier that night. By that time, however, Louis began to slow down on his rants because the alcohol was beginning to kick in.

“Why don’t you put him in his place?” Zayn said lazily, his nails now scratching rudely against the taut material of Liam’s jeans. “Why don’t you show him what he’s missing and all,” his flatmate added with a suggestive glance at his boyfriend who nearly fucking groaned in response. Louis watched enviously, transfixed and randy as fuck as Zayn’s hand danced dangerously close to Liam’s crotch.

“What do you mean, Z.?” Louis slurred. The last drink he’d downed had hit him _hard_ , nearly as hard as Liam’s impressive stiffy appeared right now.  

“Fuck, Zayn. Do you absolutely have to give him a handjob right now?” Louis complained, washing his frustration down with a swig of whiskey and soda.

Zayn, being the true mate he was, immediately halted his successful campaign at getting his boyfriend off in public (much to Liam’s bitter disappointment). Zayn shifted on the stool so that he was giving Louis his full attention. Liam shifted, too, but for another reason entirely.

“’m sorry, Lou,” Zayn apologised sheepishly. “I got carried away. Go on.”

Louis blinked his eyes, attempting to focus both his thoughts and his weaving and oscillating line of vision. “I’s just wondering what you meant by ‘show him what he’s missing.’”

“Ah,” Zayn acknowledged, a distinct twinkle in his dark eyes. “Why don’t you try sending him another picture--one that he can’t ignore? Give him something that will make him _beg_ for it, or at least, like, reciprocate, yeah?”

Liam shook his head, then threw back the shot he’d been neglecting. “God, you’re such a tease, Malik,” Liam reprimanded, and honestly, Louis couldn’t agree more.

But he had more pressing things on his mind at the moment--like his bladder, for instance. “Well, I’m off for a wee,” Louis shared, rising unsteadily to his feet.

“Mind you don’t take too long,” Liam called out, his lust-filled brown eyes fixed on his boyfriend all the while. “I was thinking we might make this an early night, if you know what I mean.”

Louis watched as Zayn’s half-smile twisted into a knowing smirk. “When’d you want to leave, babe?”

“Five minutes ago.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “I’ll meet you two out front, yeah?” He feigned exasperation, but he really didn’t mind leaving the club now. He hadn’t admitted it at the bar, but he thought Zayn’s advice was spot on.  

And the sooner they left, the faster he could put the plan into action.

 

..............

 

Harry peeked at the selfie Louis had sent him directly after their bizarre telephone conversation earlier that evening. He’d probably viewed the picture ten times already (if not more). He just couldn’t help himself. There was something about it that fascinated him, something about it that drew his attention

again and again. Maybe it was the mischievous sparkle in those baby blues or maybe it was the knowing, confident smile that played on Louis’ thin lips. Whatever it was, it made Harry’s heart want to jump right out of his chest and perform a few loop-de-loops just for good measure.

A couple of hours later, Harry had all but conquered that impulse. It was a good thing as well because the studious lad had to focus on studying for his upcoming exams. Thus, he was sat on his bed, books and papers sprawled around him, when his mobile pinged. It was another picture message from Louis.

And it very nearly wrecked him.

At first glance, however, Harry--who wasn’t accustomed to receiving so-called “nudes”--barely registered what he was seeing. When he did, it took him a further minute to persuade himself that he was actually seeing what he was seeing. There was no doubt about it, however: it was clearly Louis, naked and lounging upon what Harry assumed was his bed. His eyes, the eyes that Harry had been so drawn to in the first selfie, were screwed shut.  

Louis’ expression was really what struck him the most. It was pained and exultant all at once. Louis bit his lower lip enticingly, invitingly, and this alone made Harry’s cock begin to harden.

Harry didn’t even realise when he began stroking himself. He barely was aware of his right hand slowly undoing his zip, of him easing his neglected member from out of the tight, restrictive fabric of his super skinny jeans.

His breathing sped up as he began pumping himself, squeezing his hard shaft until his eyes fluttered and a moan escaped his full, strawberry-coloured lips. Harry refocused his vision on the screen in his left hand. He inched his gaze downward, keening as he fully took in the erotic portrait. Louis’ prick was long and slender, a pinkish-blush in colour. Like Harry, he was uncut, and a bulbous head peeked out from above Louis’ fist.

Harry imagined he had the other boy’s lithe member in his own hand now, wished, in fact, that he could have been there when Louis captured the image. This thought in mind, he laid his iPhone down on the bed next to him. He didn’t need it anymore. That screenshot was forever seared into his memory, for better or for…

…Well, just for better, actually.

He continued attending to himself, to his escalating erection. Steady drops of precum trickled from his swelling cock. He caught each one with his thumb, shuddering as his calloused hands--his baker’s hands--grazed across his sensitive slit.

He thought of Louis’ mouth now, that incisor cutting into the flesh of his bottom lip. Harry pictured himself kissing those pale lips. He saw himself biting and bruising Louis’ lower lip himself--something which he had never even thought of doing to another human being until now. Yes, now he yearned to feel those abused lips against his. He fantasised about how it would feel to have those tight lips encompass his thick cock as blue irises stared up at him with that errant smirk.

He let his mouth fall open, his back arch, as he began jerking himself off with a freedom he hadn’t experienced since he couldn’t even bloody remember when. He pulled at his cock violently, his hand guiding his hips upward in a vertical line as if they were attached to an imaginary string. His other hand cupped his balls until it became too much, too overpowering, and he had to use his free hand to brace himself.

Harry was chasing his high now with complete abandon. His head was clouded with lust and Louis Tomlinson. And then it hit him full force, hit him like a fucking tsunami. He rode the crest of the tidal wave, moaning and mewling as he was brought back down from his devastating high. Straining his eyes open, he observed his hands and abdomen were covered in white, foam-like streaks. His closed fist continued its automatic machinations along his now painfully sensitive cock. Harry whimpered as he felt the next wave approach. He felt the muscles in his thighs tighten, his strong jaw set as more milky ribbons spurted from his tip, painting the bedsheets and the tattooed butterfly on his glistening chest.

Completely knackered, he lay there for a few moments, listening to the rhythm of his ragged breathing and collecting his jumbled thoughts. He wrestled over the shame, a shame that covered his body and _still_ wasn’t satisfied. He just shot his fucking load to a picture of some bloke he didn’t even really know. It was embarrassing, and it was so unlike him.

With one swift movement, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and removed his boxers and tight trousers which had been caught around his ankles. Now naked, he shuffled, bleary-eyed, towards his sink. He grabbed a hand towel, placed it under the running tap, and used it to mop up the sticky mess. Then, he found a clean pair of boxers and returned to bed. Papers flew everywhere as he shook out his duvet before crawling under it.

It was going to be a headache to sort through everything tomorrow morning, but he couldn’t be bothered about that right now.

No, his thoughts still revolved around the boy who had a knack for selfie-taking, the boy who couldn’t even remember Harry’s Goddamn name, the boy who he had only felt animosity towards, but now…

…Now he felt something else _entirely._

 

…………

 

Louis called Harry the next day and apologised. He explained he was pissed, that he didn’t normally pull stupid stunts like that. Harry shrugged it off, but Louis could tell the younger boy was holding back. Unfortunately, he didn’t know whether the lad’s hesitation and discomfiture was from the fact that Louis had overstepped the bounds of friendship (and decency, to be honest) or if there was something else bothering him.

Then finally, Harry broke down. He confessed that he, too, wanted to get to know the other boy better. Harry offered to send Louis a selfie so that “they were even.” (Louis wanted to remind the kid that the only way they would be “even” were if he were to send Louis a photograph of his family jewels.) Louis soon forgot about all of that, however, when he received a picture of the most beautiful, the most angelic face he had ever seen. And from what he could tell, the lad was fit as fuck.

After a few more weeks, Louis couldn’t imagine life without Harry Styles. Harry was like the missing piece that he didn’t even know existed, that he didn’t realise he needed until this very point in time. Somehow, the two fell into a friendship that neither asked for, to be perfectly blunt, but both suddenly couldn’t do without.

It was like a routine: Harry would text good morning to him every day and Louis would call every night before Harry turned in. The pair discovered that, in spite of their marked differences, they understood one another. Indeed, they complemented each other but managed to find common ground over their love of indie music and football. Harry let his guard down, chuckling at Louis’ never-ending supply of sarcasm while Louis tolerated Harry’s inane jokes and puns with all his heart. Candidly, though, Louis could be sat at his kitchen counter all day listening to his mate’s raspy voice reciting nursery rhymes on the other end of the line. He really honestly could.

They continued on in this fashion for the whole next term. Louis acted as Harry’s soundboard when he was stressed (which was quite often). Harry encouraged Louis (in his quietly encouraging way) to change his course of study to something he felt more passionate about. Eventually and after much discussion, Louis compromised with his stepdad, choosing to switch his programme of study to marketing and animal conservation.

By some twist of fate, the pair once again ended up in an online class together that next term. And despite the fact that Louis had done shit for their last group assignment, Harry volunteered to partner with Louis on the final project for this new course. Arranging a few days’ vacation from the bakery, Harry arranged a trip down to London so that they could plan it all out face-to-face. Louis told him he was welcome to stay at his and Zayn’s flat because, hell, that’s what friends were for.

As Harry prepared to board the train to the capitol, he couldn’t find a single fault with the direction his life was headed. His optimism now returned, he couldn’t help but think how different things would be this go around.

Because this time, Harry and Louis were _very_ willing partners.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt:
> 
> "Long distance AU/Internet friends AU. Angst with a happy ending where they meet. (Preferably not a tumblr au.) Just have them get to know each other somehow and then be really sad about it and miss each other a lot. Bonus points if you include a phone/cam sex and/or a scene where one of them wanks to the idea of the other one."


End file.
